


Fairy Lights

by NestingHedwig_aka_LinW



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Out of Character, Sexual Content, Slash sex, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-24
Updated: 2009-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:10:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10097084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW/pseuds/NestingHedwig_aka_LinW
Summary: Years after the disastrous aftermath of the Tri-Wizard tournament, Draco Malfoy meets an unexpected guest on Christmas Eve. Non-CannonAuthor's Note: This is currently incomplete and may never be finished.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

Disclaimer: The story is based on characters created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including, but not limited to Scholastic Books and Warner Bros. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended; no monetary gain will be made from this story.

 

~*~*~*  
Prologue  
Late Spring

Officers from the Little Hangleton Police Department stood guard just beyond a taped off area of the Old Anglican Cemetery in an attempt to keep the curious bystanders at bay as they waited for the forensics experts to arrive from Leeds(1).

Early in the morning, the body of a young man had been discovered in an overgrown section of the church cemetery. He carried no identification, but he was wearing a yellow and black sports jersey bearing the name “DIGGORY”; the jersey also bore a school crest, but the name “Hogwarts” did not show up in their computer database.

The inspectors were baffled. The body of young Mr. Diggory showed no signs of foul play, but his face was frozen in a look of utmost shock. He was clutching what appeared to be a conductor’s baton in one of his hands and an ornately decorated goblet lay half hidden in overgrown shrubbery a short distance away.

Near the goblet was the freshly desecrated tombstone of Thomas Riddle, dead for more than half a century. Severed ropes lay at the cracked base of the heavily damaged headstone, lying in a large pool of congealing blood that also ran in rivulets down the face of the stone.

And beyond the headstone was still another body.

This body was that of a short, heavyset middle-aged man with a pronounced overbite. The man’s left hand had been severed at the wrist, and from the pool of blood around the corpse, the unfortunate man had bled to death. The severed hand was missing. 

By the next day, the forensic experts determined that the blood from the headstone was not from the older man or the schoolboy, but from a third person. Based upon the amount of blood at the scene, the third victim, if still alive, was in urgent need of immediate medical attention. 

~*~*~*  
Arabella Figg opened her morning newspaper and immediately dropped her mug of tea on the front step. Harry Potter’s face smiled shyly up at her beneath a bold headline about satanic rituals and murder. The article spoke of two students, apparently kidnapped from a small Scottish horticultural school, and brought to Little Hangleton in rural Yorkshire where the bodies of seventeen year old Cedric Diggory and an unidentified male in his late thirties to early forties were discovered. The article went on to plead for the public’s assistance in locating the badly injured fourteen-year-old and for identification of the unknown man.

Ministry Aurors dispatched to Little Hangleton were stunned to discover the unidentified man to be no other than Peter Pettigrew. By emergency order of the Wizengamont, Sirius Black was declared innocent of the charges that had cost the wizard twelve years of unjust imprisonment. But the broken wizard felt no joy; his beloved godson was missing and presumed dead. 

A glimmer of hope came unexpectedly when Lord Black visited the goblins at Gringotts’ Wizarding Bank to reactivate the dormant Black Family Vaults. Sirius learned that the Potter Vaults had not automatically sealed themselves as they would have at the death of the final Potter heir. He prayed to any and every deity that Harry still lived. 

~*~*~*  
Four and One Half Years Later  
Late December

Draco Malfoy stretched his long legs, trying to get comfortable in the compartment aboard the Myrrdin Express. At nineteen, he had long since earned his Apparation License and could have easily Apparated himself to Malfoy Manor in minutes, but, at his father’s insistence, he was now stuck on this infernal train for the better part of the day. 

The witch with the sweet cart offered a momentary distraction from the boredom he was feeling. He purchased a single chocolate frog. Draco turned the small package in his hands for several moments, remembering how once he would have “bought out the cart” to sate his insatiable sweet tooth. Thankfully, he thought, he had finally learned moderation.

The small confection squirmed between his fingers before Draco snapped off first one flailing leg and then the other. He glanced at the colorful trading card. He, like most small wizarding children, had once obsessively collected them. The blond read the name of the featured wizard and smirked in amusement.

“What’s so funny, Drake?” asked his long-time friend Blaise Zabini. The dark wizard was draped carelessly on the facing bench seat. “Got another Dumbledore?”

Draco’s smirk melted into a genuine smile as he held up the card – Agrippa. Blaise returned the smile.

“Damn,” he laughed. “It only took you ten years to find him.”

“Eleven. I haven’t collected these in years…not even sure if I kept the rest of the cards.” Draco carefully tucked the card away for safekeeping. Perhaps locating the long sought-after card was an omen of good luck.

~*~*~*

Draco smoothed back his blond hair and fastened it neatly into a ponytail. He checked his face in the mirror, making sure the shaving charm had removed all of his sparse facial hair. Scowling at his pointed chin, he often wished he could to grow a beard to conceal it, but the pale follicles refused to cooperate. 

Fastening an heirloom broach to his charcoal grey robes, the young wizard closed his eyes and collected his scattered thoughts. The Manor was hosting unexpected houseguests and it would be suicide to face them without his occulmancy shields in place.

Draco ran his hands up his unmarked forearms and wondered how long he would be permitted to keep them that way. As a dutiful child, Draco always parroted his father’s prejudices, but as he matured, he began to realize that the world was neither pure light nor pure dark. Realistically, he wondered, could he declare himself neutral, plant himself firmly in the grey, and hope not to be cursed to insanity or worse? He buried those dangerous thoughts deep within his occulmancy shields.

Was it too late, he mused, to hop an International Floo and join the Zabini Clan in Venice?

*~*~*~  
The house elves outdid themselves, Draco thought. Malfoy Manor sparkled with fairy lights, baubles, evergreens and ribbons. The blond paused before a window overlooking the garden; large, lacy snowflakes drifted beyond the panes, covering the dormant landscape in a glaze of white.

Draco heard the hum of voices from the smaller family dining room and knew he had delayed his entrance for as long as was socially acceptable. He had been looking forward to a quiet winter holiday, far removed from the pressures of Myrrdin University. But his hopes were dashed with the unsettling news that, while he was not currently in residence, the Dark Lord had become a semi-permanent guest of the Manor. Instead of being able to relax, he would now have to keep his guard up at all times.

So much for the Agrippa Chocolate Frog Card being a good omen, he thought cynically. Draco strode into the dining room, his Malfoy mask firmly in place. 

~*~*~*  
The dining table was exquisitely set and the food, as usual, was outstanding. Draco watched his mother pick at the various gourmet courses; he wondered why his mother was drinking sparkling water rather than wine. Narcissa’s eyes met her son’s, flickered toward the empty place setting designating the guest of honor, and met the pale grey eyes once again. Silently, she conveyed a warning. Draco reached for his goblet of wine, making a subtle hand gesture that only she understood.

It was a small family gathering, consisting only of his parents, his Aunt Bellatrix, his Uncle Rudolphus and his uncle’s brother, Rastaban. The trio, along with two other dark wizards, were fugitives, broken out of Azkaban several years previously by the Dark Lord himself. 

Draco wondered at the intelligence of Ministry Aurors. The escapees had been in residence at Malfoy Manor almost from the start. Ministry incompetence or well-placed bribes, Draco wondered idly, or perhaps a bit of both.

His Aunt Bella shrieked in laughter; Draco felt a chill run down his spine. Even as a child, Bellatrix Black was rumored to be insane, but the years in Azkaban had unhinged her completely. Thankfully, the Lestrange brothers had weathered their years in the isolated prison with their sanity remarkably intact.

Watching the always peculiar interaction between his aunt and his mother, Draco decided he would rather cast his fate to the malevolent Lestrange brothers than the unpredictable insanity of the black-haired witch. Rudolphus interrogated his nephew on his current University studies and possible career paths before being drawn into a political discussion with Rastaban and Lucius.

Draco closed his eyes for a measured moment, wondering if there was a graceful way to extract himself from this meal. He didn’t need his mother to warn him to be careful; he was fully aware of the precarious position he was in. And Draco knew life would grow that much more complicated once he was forced to interact directly with the Dark Lord.

~*~*~*  
Christmas Eve

Draco rested his hand lightly on the polished oak railing as he stood at the head of the main staircase, observing the activity below. Instead of the Winter Solstice Charity Balls he remembered from his childhood, awash in the colorful finery and festive chatter of Wizarding High Society, somberly dressed wizards and witches apparated into the main foyer. The subdued hum of conversation floated up to him as the Dark Lord’s Elite made their way down the hallway to a strategy meeting being held in the estate library. 

It was just before tea and it was Christmas Eve, for Merlin’s sake. Couldn’t Lord Voldemort have rescheduled this routine meeting for another night, he thought bitterly. With the dark wizard now in residence, his mother had withdrawn into her private rooms and his father…

Draco felt, rather than heard, the imposing presence behind him. 

“Hello, Father.”

Lucius’ hand rested on the young man’s shoulder and gave it a single comforting squeeze. By the time Draco turned his head, the elder wizard’s impassive mask was firmly in place. Draco blinked; had he imagined the brief second of humanity?

“The Dark Lord has requested your attendance, my son. Do not disappoint me.”

Draco’s heart thudded against his breastbone as he slowly followed his father down the staircase. He relaxed his breathing as he swallowed his resentment and reinforced the layered walls of his occulmancy shields.

~*~*~*~  
Draco hung back, thankfully being ignored, as the routine meeting progressed. The Dark Lord had not openly acknowledged his presence, but the blond could feel the dark crimson eyes periodically rest on him. He fought the urge to bolt from the room; he did not want a Dark Mark for Christmas.

Primary meeting over, the Elite began to graze at a light buffet the house elves had set up. Draco placed a few delicacies onto a bone china plate and poured a cup of strong tea. Surreptitiously observing the Dark Lord, Draco noticed that he did not eat. He walked the perimeter of the library, pausing once or twice to run his hand down the spine of an especially dark tome, almost as if he were caressing the leather. Draco felt his skin crawl as the dark wizard’s eyes passed over him once again.

~*~*~*~  
Lord Voldemort settled into one of the leather sofas. He had dismissed all but a few select followers and the inhabitants of the manor. His eyes rested on the elaborately decorated Christmas tree given a place of prominence in front of a large bank of mullioned windows. An odd feeling of amusement washed over him. Setting aside his empty tumbler of scotch, he snapped his fingers.

“Elf!”

Bobbin popped into the room, bowing so deeply his bat-like ears touched the floor.

“Bring me my pet, elf. Dress it appropriately.”

Bobbin nodded and disappeared with a soft pop.

Several minutes later, Draco looked up as the remaining guests fell silent. Bobbin opened the Library door leading a slight figure wearing a floor length forest green and silver brocade tunic with deep side slits and slim black trousers. Thin milk-white hands were clasped demurely at the stomach, and a pale, delicate face was hidden in long black hair.

She was beautiful; Draco thought as he noted the sly looks several of the men gave her. Out of Voldemort’s sight, he noted wryly. The Dark Lord snapped his fingers and the sprite glided silently to kneel before him.

Draco positioned himself in the room so that he could watch her. She curled up at the Dark Lord’s side and laid her head in his lap. Gently stroking her hair from her face, Draco saw the spray of natural pearls dangling from her ear. The androgynous face was beautiful, yet oddly familiar. Voldemort smirked as he caught the younger wizard admiring his prize. Leaning over, he whispered into his pet’s ear. “Did you see the Christmas Tree, Pearl?”

Bright green eyes glittered in the candlelight. The decorations almost put the Great Hall at Hogwart’s to shame. Glancing about the room, the dark wizard’s pet noticed the tall, elegant, white blond wizard. Draco.

Stormy gray eyes met green as Draco suddenly realized who Voldemort’s pet truly was. The Boy-Who-Lived, Harry…Fucking…Potter. Draco closed his eyes, ice in his stomach.

*~*~*~*  
Draco couldn’t sleep. Ever since he was a small child he had always had difficulty sleeping Christmas Eve – the excitement of seeing what Father Christmas had left. Christmas – it was funny, really – Pureblood wizard family celebrating a purely Muggle holiday devoted to a Muggle savoir – his father always said they were celebrating Winter Solstice, but Draco knew better. How else could you explain the fat white rats left he always left for Father Christmas’ hippogriffs?(2)

Wide awake and reluctant to take a sleeping draught, Draco wrapped his dressing robe over his nightshirt and slipped his feet into slippers. He padded down the silent hallways, descended the staircase and stopped at the door leading to the library. He stepped back; he was not alone.

At the corner of the room he saw a ghost of a figure with a long white nightshirt and a thick black braid. Harry. Draco inched silently into the shadows of the room and watched the slight wizard. Harry gently touched a few baubles on the tree, causing them to spin. He ran his finger across the bow on an elaborately wrapped gift beneath the tree. In the reflection of the fairy lights, Draco could see tears glittering on the pale face. With a soft sigh, Harry curled himself up into a ball in one of the oversized wing chairs and stared at the tree. Draco heard a quiet sob and a hiccup.

Pop! Bobbin appeared in front of Harry who jumped. “Master’s Pet Harry, sir…is you sad?”

Draco could not hear the reply but Bobbin disappeared only to re-appear with a tray of hot chocolate and gingerbread biscuits. “Chocolate not like potion, but it will help.”

Harry uncurled a little and sipped the mug of hot chocolate. He nibbled at a gingerbread star.

Not wanting to intrude on Harry’s sorrow, Draco was about to slip out of the room when he heard brisk footsteps in the outer hall. Even though he was in his own home, he didn’t trust other residents not to hex first and determine guilt later. He swiftly disillusioned himself.

“Pearl,” Lord Voldemort barked. “Come here!”

Harry uncurled from the chair and slowly limped over to his master. Before he could kneel, his shoulders were caught in a crushing grip. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

Harry looked over at the holiday display. Voldemort relaxed his grip when he saw the tree. He smiled cruelly. “You came to see what Father Christmas brought you?”

“No, Master.” Harry whispered. “Just a tradition… I’ve always sat up late Christmas Eve and watched the lights. Never got presents until Hogwarts. There won’t be any for me here.”

Lord Voldemort noticed the tray of hot chocolate and the half-eaten gingerbread. “Did I give you permission to eat sweets?”

The color drained from Harry’s already pale face. He had forgotten the strict diet the dark wizard had him follow. “I’m sorry, Master…It’s Christmas and I forgot…”

Voldemort sat in the wing chair and pulled Harry on top of him. Harry straddled the Dark Lord’s hips, his nightshirt pulled high up his thighs. As Lord Voldemort began to caress the bare skin, Draco noticed the fingerprint bruises marring the pale, thin legs.

“It’s time for my present from Father Christmas.” The Dark Lord purred. He ran a long, thin finger down the nightshirt placket, wandlessly unbuttoning the garment. Draco could see more bruises on the reed thin body as the fabric slipped off Harry’s shoulder. Lord Voldemort began to caress and nip his pet’s throat.

“Please, Master.” Harry whimpered. “Please, not any more tonight…I’m so sore…”

“How many times must I tell you…You are mine to use as I please.” 

The older wizard wrenched Harry’s thighs open, draping one bony knee over each of the thick rolled armrests, spreading his slave unnaturally wide. Harry cried out as his hips were lifted high and he was impaled, gravity forcing the man’s cock deep within his swollen channel as his hips were released. 

Draco grimaced as he watched the brutal assault, wishing he had remained in bed. Time after time, Harry was lifted and thrust down on the dark wizard’s erection, his soft moans signaling pain and not pleasure. Lord Voldemort stilled as his climax drew near. He pulled Harry’s exhausted body against his chest and thrust once, twice, and then shuddered out his release.

Lord Voldemort pushed Harry roughly off his lap and onto the floor. He brusquely cast a cleaning charm on himself and his prone pet.

“Finish your sweets, Pearl, and come back to bed.”

Harry waited until Voldemort left the room before he gingerly sat up. He stared directly at Draco’s hidden form.

“You can come out now, Malfoy” Harry whispered while refastening the nightshirt. Draco released the charm and walked over to where the smaller wizard was now curled up in the chair. Fresh mugs of hot chocolate and a small vial of healing potion appeared on the small table. Harry knocked back the vile tasting potion before sipping the hot chocolate to eradicate the bitter taste.

“How did you know it was me?” Draco sat in the chair next to Harry.

“I heard you come in, but I knew you didn’t leave.” Harry took a small bite of the gingerbread. He turned his large, green eyes on the other wizard. “So, did you enjoy the show?”

“W-what?” Draco blushed. “Potter…”

Harry laughed a strained laugh. “Haven’t you heard…there is no Harry Potter…He bled out in a graveyard…There is only Pearl…The boy who lived to be fucked by Voldemort…”

Draco reached a hand toward Harry, but the raven-haired wizard pulled back. “I wouldn’t suggest touching me unless you want us both to get a Cruciatus with your Christmas stocking.”

“Why does he call you ‘Pearl’?”

Harry toyed with one of his pearl earrings. “Do you know how a natural pearl is made?”

Draco thought for a moment before answering. “A foreign object lodges itself inside an oyster’s shell. The oyster secretes a substance … called nacre, I think, to cover the irritant. In time, the layers build up and a pearl is formed.”

“Precisely. That’s why I’m a pearl.”

Draco scowled, and then realization struck. “You began as an irritant…and he’s polishing you up into something precious?”

“I don’t know about the precious part, but you’ve got the object down right.”

Harry stood up, wincing slightly. “Happy Christmas, Draco.” Harry said quietly and he was gone.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” The blond whispered into the empty room.

Draco watched the fairy lights for a few more moments. He needed to think, but he was so tired his brain refused to function. Nibbling on one of the gingerbread stars, Draco drifted back to bed. Somehow the anticipation of Father Christmas had lost its sparkle.

~*~*~*~  
(1) Little Hangleton is a totally fictitious village, possibly located somewhere in Yorkshire. As it is probably a very small village, it would not have a forensics department of its own. Leeds, a much larger city, is located in Yorkshire. 

(2) Carrots left for Santa’s reindeer is a North American custom. I debated between using hippogriffs or thestrals as a wizarding substitution.


End file.
